Addiction
Its the addiction you can't break,
without it you don't want to wake.
As it runs through your blood stream,
you sit back in a euphoric dream.
In this state, time doesn't exist,
surrounded with pleasure, like a mist.
You don't want this time to pass,
looking at your life, through an hour glass.
On this, you feel whole and complete,
but is it your mind or heart that is starting to deplete?
She cuts and makes an incision,
its you who tortures himself with indecision.
Is she worth my money and time?
With her I do feel sublime.
But its my life, so who is in control?
She is, she can read me like a scroll.
I have to get up and make a stand,
its my soul, that I gave her to brand.
As I sit back and let her in,
I know at my funeral, she'll play the violin.
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